


Feels Like Tonight

by Gemmiel



Series: Feels [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, Human Castiel, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sam Knows, Sam thinks it's about time, Shower Sex, Tickling, dean/cas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmiel/pseuds/Gemmiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is awakened by thudding sounds and giggling in the hall outside his bedroom, and sleepily wonders if Dean has brought a woman back to the bunker. But eventually it dawns on him that it's not a <i>woman</i> Dean's with...</p><p>Sequel to my story "Feels Like the First Time." This is an AU for season 9 in which Cas goes straight to the bunker and Sam heals spontaneously from the trials.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a simple AU in which I bypass all that messy plotty stuff from season 9 (skipping April and Zeke entirely) so that I can write some fun smut with a touch of domestic bunker fluff. In "Feels Like the First Time," Dean and Cas took their first steps into physical intimacy. The first chapter of this story is from Sam's POV, but the rest focuses on Dean and Cas.

Someone was stumbling around in the hall. 

Sam Winchester rolled over in bed, blinking sleepily. There were muffled thudding sounds coming from the hallway outside his room, as if someone were falling repeatedly and heavily against the walls. He thought he heard Dean’s deep voice for a moment, low and intense, _throaty,_ and wondered what in the hell Dean was doing out there. It almost sounded like he’d brought a girl home and had just shoved her up against the wall. But they’d agreed that letting random women into their top-secret hideout was a really stupid idea, and therefore neither of them ever brought anyone, no matter how hot, back to the bunker. So there obviously couldn't be a woman out there.

Reassured that the irritating thudding was only his noisy brother being an idiot, he let his eyes drift shut again. Only to have them snap open when he heard someone giggling.

_Giggling._

_What the fuck?_ he thought, frowning at the shadows on the ceiling. Dean never giggled. But this was definitely a male voice, and definitely giggling. It sounded like Dean had been turned into a fifteen-year-old girl. 

Well, a fifteen-year-old girl who was a baritone.

Maybe Dean was drunk. He’d mostly gotten past needing hunter’s helper to allow him to sleep at night, but that didn’t mean he didn’t occasionally drink to excess. But even drunk, Dean never got giggly. He was a lot more likely to get morose and sullen.

Not that he’d been sullen lately. No, once Sam had begun to recover from the trials, Dean had seemed pretty damn cheerful, almost uncharacteristically so. And once Castiel had come back…

Sam grinned to himself. The truth was that Dean had been walking on air since Cas came back to them last night. Not that Dean himself would ever admit it, and he’d probably rip Sam’s head off if he mentioned it. So the younger Winchester had prudently kept his mouth shut. But he had _eyes,_ damn it, and he knew what he saw.

The minute Cas had stumbled into the bunker, Dean had just… _lit up._ Like a fucking Christmas tree. Sam hadn't seen him this happy in, well, forever.

Cas had seemed pretty over the moon, too. He’d been exhausted last night, of course, barely able to choke down a couple of cheeseburgers and shower off the road grunge before collapsing into bed, but today he’d been bright-eyed and cheerful, just as thrilled to see Dean as Dean was to see him. Sam remembered how he’d caught Cas intently studying Dean’s ass, not once but three times, and his cheeks heated in the darkness.

It wasn’t that he was stupid. He’d known for a long time that Dean and Cas had, well, a thing for each other. Hell, _everyone_ knew it, from angels to demons, and every creature in between. Anyone who’d ever seen the two of them eyefucking each other knew—and since they eyefucked _all the goddamn time,_ it wasn't exactly a closely guarded secret.

But until now, Cas had been an angel, and frankly a bit out of Dean’s reach. Out of Dean's _league,_ as Dean had once said about Jessica and Sam. Angels didn’t seem to have the same emotions humans did. They were capable of righteous fury, adulation for God, and a sort of contempuous, scornful love for humanity, but they didn't ordinarily seem to form human-style relationships. Even Cas, who was about as human an angel as Sam had ever met, had always been a bit… distant. Remote. There was no denying he felt _something_ for Dean-- the constant freakin' eyefucking made that painfully clear-- but whether it was the same kind of attachment Dean felt for him, Sam had no idea. And he could tell Dean didn’t know, either.

The truth was, though, that human Cas wasn’t quite the same guy angelic Cas had been. He devoured food with epicurean delight. He took ridiculously long showers and waxed poetic about the water pressure. His feet tapped unconsciously in time to the beat of Led Zeppelin.

And… he couldn’t look away from Dean’s ass.

Remembering the way Cas had stared at Dean this morning, Sam felt his cheeks heat up. It wasn’t that he had a problem with the concept of Dean and Cas getting together. Hell, no. He’d been hoping for a while that they’d just go ahead and _do_ it already, because all the pining and longing and moping was enough to drive any observer to drink. And besides, Dean deserved some happiness, and there could be no doubt that Cas made him happy.

It was just that… well, the way Cas looked at Dean this morning had been kind of intimate. And the way Dean kept sneaking glances at Cas when he thought the ex-angel wasn’t looking was just as bad. The two of them were walking around the bunker with mutual adoration shining in their eyes, to the point where it was getting fucking embarrassing.

So if someone was thudding around in the hall…

Geez, he was stupid. He was supposed to be the smart member of the team, but he was obviously dumb as a stump... or maybe just sleepy as hell because his asshole brother had waked him up in the middle of the night by crashing around the bunker with all the delicate grace of the Impala roaring into a china shop. But whether it was because he was dumb or sleepy, it had somehow taken him all this time to put two and two together and come up with the obvious answer. 

Dean clearly hadn’t brought a _woman_ home.

He heard another thud as a heavy body smacked up against the wall, followed by breathless, decidedly masculine whispering and giggles, and he pulled the covers over his head, sighing irritably. There were some things a guy didn’t want to hear his brother get up to. Hearing said brother have enthusiastic, wall-thumping sex was right at the top of the goddamned list. Especially when it was _right outside his fucking bedroom._

He burrowed down deep under the covers, trying to make sure he couldn't hear a damn thing. He was, he assured himself, cranky as hell, because wasn't it just like Dean to decide he had to start screwing Cas right where it was most likely to wake Sam up in the dead of night? Yep, typical Dean move, deciding he had to get laid right _now,_ without the slightest shred of consideration for the other denizens of the bunker, both of whom needed some sleep. Sam was so totally pissed at his selfish jerk of a brother. He really was.

And yet, buried under the covers, he didn't really feel all that pissed. In fact, he couldn’t quite help smiling.

He had a feeling Dean wouldn’t be bringing a woman home ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, slightly longer than I thought. This should be wrapped up in three chapters, though.

_Thud._

Dean Winchester found himself pinned up against a wall, laughing helplessly. He and Castiel had been headed for the shower—and God knew he _really_ needed a shower—but halfway down the long hallway, he’d realized he hadn’t kissed Cas yet. Hadn’t been able to, really, not with Cas all stretched out between his legs, his back against Dean’s front, writhing in the throes of pleasure as Dean had stroked him relentlessly to a climax…

While he'd been showing the former angel how to jerk off, Cas had nuzzled his throat a little, and Dean had dropped a few kisses into the dark, rumpled hair, but their mouths hadn’t met. And afterward, somewhere along the hallway, Dean had realized this was an oversight he ought to remedy.

So he’d reached out, grabbed Cas, and shoved him against the wall. And started kissing him senseless.

Cas wasn’t the insanely powerful angel he’d once been, capable of smiting with two fingers, or throwing humans around like they weighed nothing. But even as a mere mortal, he was still a pretty big guy, only an inch or two shorter than Dean, and with more a lot more muscles than Dean had ever guessed. He let Dean kiss him for a long, heartstopping moment, then grabbed Dean by his t-shirt. And shoved.

Dean found himself up against the opposite wall, Cas’ mouth devouring his.

Whoa. He was totally unaccustomed to being pushed around this way while kissing. Well, there had been that one Amazon—and the way she’d shoved him around had been seriously hot, even if the aftermath of their night together had been unpleasant—but otherwise, he’d always been the stronger one in any sexual encounter. He was basically straight, even if he’d gone instantly and happily gay for Cas the minute the angel had walked into his life in a shower of sparks, and he’d never been with a guy this way before. So it had never occurred to him that a man could shove him around like this.

Or that he’d _like_ it so damn much.

He groaned, a sound so full of need that he laughed breathlessly into Cas’ mouth, because he’d just come, and it was ridiculous for him to sound so totally turned on. But Cas had him up against the wall, his wrists pinned, and…

Well, _fuck._ It was so goddamned hot he couldn’t see straight.

He let Cas kiss him, all hot and wet and sloppy, for long moments. Cas obviously didn’t have a lot of experience kissing, despite his billion years of existence, but Dean didn’t care. What mattered wasn’t skill, but the fact that Cas was eager and enthusiastic and hot for him. And he was, so obviously that it made something deep inside of Dean ache. He’d never had anyone seem quite so hungry for him.

He’d just come—in his jeans like a goddamned teenager, which ought to embarrass the hell out of him but which somehow didn’t—but he could already feel heat swirling around low in his belly. Damn it, he wanted more than just Cas crying out in his arms, thrusting his cock into Dean’s hand, all slick and hot and desperate. Not that it hadn’t been a hell of a thing to watch. But he needed so much more.

Cas had loosened his grip a little, lost in the heat of their shared kisses, and Dean took advantage of his lack of attention. He wrenched loose, grabbed Cas by his shoulders, and shoved. The two of them stumbled back across the hall and thudded into the other wall. Cas laughed breathlessly, just as Dean had, and Dean shut him up by slamming his mouth onto Cas’ and shoving his tongue in his mouth.

Jesus. He wasn’t kissing like he knew what he was doing, either. Usually he was all gentleness and velvety slow kisses and tender brushes of his mouth, because chicks liked that kind of thing. But Cas had him so fired up he’d forgotten all about being gentle. He just wanted to kiss Cas hot and fast and furious, to take what he’d wanted for so long and never quite dared to take before. 

Cas was a virgin, or close to it, and Dean ought to be slowly seducing him, step by careful step. Instead he was fucking Cas’ mouth with his own, greedy and eager and almost brutal.

Cas didn’t seem to mind. He moaned into Dean’s mouth, his hands lifting and curling into Dean’s hair, clutching so tightly it almost hurt. Dean didn’t give a shit if the grip of his fingers was a little rough and painful. The fact that Cas was here, holding onto him, was all that mattered.

He tried to mutter Cas’ name, but their mouths were locked together, and it came out as a needy, frantic groan. His hands slipped up beneath Cas' shirt-- _his_ shirt, which Cas was wearing-- and found hard, heavy muscles rolling beneath silken skin. He couldn't stop himself from caressing every inch of Cas' back. Cas shivered under his explorations, and Dean groaned into his mouth again.

 _Shit._ He needed Cas, needed him so bad. He was still wearing jeans, and as he got hard he was becoming increasingly and uncomfortably aware that there was a load of drying jizz in his shorts. He had to get these damn jeans off. But even if he stripped off his clothes and did Cas right here against the wall—

The wall. Which was right outside Sammy’s bedroom. Shit.

No, he decided. No matter how hot he was for Cas, no matter how much Cas moaned into his mouth and dug his fingers into his hair and pressed his thigh up between Dean’s legs, practically begging to be screwed _right here right now,_ he wasn’t going to fuck Cas for the first time like this. He needed to get cleaned off, and Cas needed to be treated with a little gentleness and respect, not thrown up against a wall and… and _reamed._ Cas was new at this—new at sex, new at the whole human thing—and Dean desperately wanted him to like it, so Cas wouldn’t go and get his grace back and leave them again.

And yeah, maybe that was the most selfish thought he’d ever had in a lifetime of selfish thoughts. But fuck it, he’d had enough of the angel leaving him. He couldn't bear losing Cas ever again.

And that meant making sure Cas enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh as much as he himself did.

He pulled back—not without effort—and started to whisper Cas’ name, but Cas had him by the shirt again and was shoving him into the wall. Dean let out a startled laugh. He couldn’t help it. The laugh dissolved into giggles when Cas grabbed him around the ribcage.

He was pretty sure Cas had been trying to get a grip on him, not tickle him, but Cas was a millennia-old warrior, trained to take advantage of any weakness in his opponent, and he quickly figured out he’d found a crack in Dean’s armor. His fingers moved across Dean’s ribs, tickling relentlessly, and Dean collapsed back against the wall in a fit of helpless giggles. He tried to smother his laughter, but couldn’t.

 _Goddamn it,_ he thought blurrily as he squirmed against the wall, trying feebly to get away. Sam was going to hear them—was going to come out of his room, all annoyed and irritated at being awakened in the middle of the night, and find the two of them, up against the wall, disheveled and rumpled and so obviously in the middle of a hot and heavy makeout session. And then…

The thought of his brother’s disapproving bitchface gave him strength. He pushed off from the wall, shoving his shoulder into Cas’ chest and sending the smaller man stumbling back. He grabbed Cas’ wrists, pinning them against the wall just as Cas had pinned his, and used his body to press Cas against the wall, helpless. His for the taking. He could feel the outline of Cas' cock, hard and hot, through his boxers, and he pressed his own hard-on against it and moaned. _God,_ he wanted Cas.

“Shower,” he ground out. “Now.”

Cas nodded frantically against his shoulder.

"Now," he agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say three chapters? I meant four. I keep trying for straight-up PWP, but a wee bit of characterization gets in there despite my best efforts. Sorry!

“Hot showers,” Castiel said, “are one of the great pleasures of earthly existence.”

Dean snorted, but he couldn’t argue it. He and Cas had stripped frantically on their way to the bathroom—leaving a trail of clothing behind them in the hallway—and the two of them had practically fallen into the old-fashioned clawfooted tub together the instant the water streaming from the showerhead was hot enough. He’d been so turned on in the hallway that he’d meant to pretty much screw Cas’ brains out the minute they were under the water.

But somewhere along the line, “screwing their brains out” had turned into the two of them slowly and leisurely soaping each other’s bodies and scrubbing each other off. 

It was nice. It was very nice. The white shower curtain and the billows of steam (not to mention a locked door) made the old tub seem like their own private world, and the combination of the hot water pouring over them, and Cas’ hands cautiously, almost clumsily, exploring Dean’s body, felt… well, _intimate._

Dean didn’t usually do the intimacy thing. Sure, he’d taken plenty of showers with women, but he’d always taken a let’s-get-right-to-it sort of approach. He’d never had anyone slowly run their hands over his body, exploring his ass and his shoulders and the curve of his spine, staring all the while with a look of wide-eyed wonder and awe. But that was exactly what Cas was doing, and it made something inside Dean’s chest twist a little. 

He wasn’t used to being looked at that way. Sure, plenty of people had looked at him like he was hot (because he was). But no one but Cas looked at him like he was _special._

“Hot showers are nice,” he admitted, sighing as Cas moved behind him, his hands running down Dean’s front, caressing his anti-possession tattoo. “But this is better.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed solemnly, pressing reverent kisses against Dean’s shoulderblade. “And it confirms the strange phenomenon I have noticed, Dean. My body seems to react only to you.”

Dean couldn’t stop the warmth that curled in his stomach. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Yes. When I am near you, I become sexually aroused. It does not happen near Sam. Or Kevin. Only you.”

Dean chuckled at Cas' serious tone. He couldn’t help it. “That’s kind of a small sample size, dude. How about when you were on the road?”

Cas seemed to consider that carefully. His hand moved to Dean’s nipple and stroked it gently, and Dean gritted his teeth.

“I think,” Cas said, “that when I was traveling, I was too anxious and tired to have much interest in anything except getting back to you. But the one man I recall noticing reminded me of you. He had green eyes and freckles, and a smile not unlike yours. Even so, he did not affect me the way you do.”

Dean tried hard not to be flattered, and failed. Cas went on.

“It seems,” he said thoughtfully, “that of all the humans in creation, you are the only one I find… arousing.”

Dean wanted to let him believe that, but he couldn’t. He shook his head. “No, Cas. It doesn’t work that way.”

“I do not understand. Don’t humans often mate for life?”

“Sure they do. But just ‘cause you’re with someone doesn’t mean you’re dead, man. I mean, even if you and I—“ He cleared his throat, a bit uncomfortable with the serious turn the conversation had taken. “The thing is, even if you and I are, you know, _it_ for each other—that doesn’t mean you’re never gonna meet anyone else who can make you hot and bothered. There’ll always be people who are so gorgeous they make you look.”

There was a silence, in which Dean could imagine Cas cocking his head and wrinkling his forehead in that way that meant he was considering an alien concept carefully. “So if I meet another man I find arousing, I should become intimate with him as well?”

“ _Hell,_ no,” Dean growled. He heard the dangerous possessiveness in his own voice, and tried to dial it back a notch. Tried to sound reasonable, when the idea of Cas sleeping with anyone else made him feel anything but reasonable. “I mean… it depends, dude. If you and I decide we don’t want a… a relationship, that this is just a one-night thing, then yeah, sure. But if the two of us decide to be, you know, exclusive… then no. Just because you find someone hot doesn’t mean you have to screw ‘em. You can just look.”

Cas considered that carefully. His fingers pinched Dean’s nipple, and Dean bit back a groan. 

“I do not wish for this to be just a one-night event, Dean.”

Dean did groan at that. “Okay,” he said when he could speak coherently. “Then don’t have sex with anyone else, and I won’t either.”

“I suspect that may be more easily said than done as far as you are concerned.” Cas sounded mournful. “You have spent your entire adult life engaging in ‘one-night things,’ Dean. I am not certain I can reasonably expect you to change.”

Dean heard the uncertainty, the insecurity, in the former angel’s voice, and it made his throat tighten up. He turned around and put his arms around Cas, holding him close.

“Hey,” he said into the wet hair. “It’s different now.”

“Is it?”

“Hell, yeah. Totally different. Because… because it’s _you._ ”

Cas pressed his face into Dean’s throat, the same way he’d nuzzled him when Dean was jacking him off. The memory of Cas sobbing and crying out as he came sent a jolt of heat through Dean, burning away the sense of warm intimacy and replacing it with something more urgent.

“Hey,” he said again, pressing his hips against the other man. Cas was still hard, and so was he. Cool. “We’re wasting the hot water with all this talk.”

“The bunker seems to have almost infinite quantities of hot water.”

Dean couldn’t argue that. The hot water heater the Men of Letters had installed must be enormous. “Still,” he said coaxingly, “no point in wasting energy and water, is there? And besides, we’re gonna turn into raisins if we just stand here talking.”

“I suppose that you have a better suggestion as to how we should spend our time.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

Dean went to his knees. Hot water poured over him, almost blinding him. He blinked it away and leaned forward, letting his tongue stroke very gently over the head of Cas’ cock. He heard Cas’ startled gasp, and the ex-angel’s hands dropped to his shoulders.

“Dean.”

He liked the way Cas said his name. He’d always liked Cas’ deep voice, but there was a note in it now that wasn’t just gravelly and sexy, but low and desperate. He did it again, running his tongue over the rounded head more deliberately, more carefully, and Cas moaned.

“ _Dean._ ”

He’d never done this before, but he knew what he himself liked. He ran his tongue all around the head, stroking in careful circles, lavishing attention on the sensitive little area just beneath the head. Cas seemed to appreciate the attentions. His fingers dug into his shoulders, and his soft whispers of _Dean Dean Dean_ gradually gave way to incoherent moaning.

He was leaking precome already, and Dean had expected to be a little grossed out by that, but he definitely wasn’t. In fact it was actually kind of exciting to know he had that effect on Cas. He didn’t mind the taste as much as he’d thought he would, either. He lapped it away, focusing his efforts on the sensitive little slit at the tip, and Cas whimpered.

“Dean. _Dean._ I’m going to fall.”

Dean could understand the problem. The old cast-iron tub was some distance from the wall, so there was nothing for Cas to lean against, no way for him to support himself. And since this was all new to him, his knees probably felt pretty wobbly.

But they weren’t stopping, damn it. Not for anything.

“Hold onto me,” he whispered, and went back to stroking Cas with his tongue.

Cas’ hands lifted and dug into his hair, clinging with a kind of desperation, and he heard Cas sobbing out his name, and other words he couldn’t quite make out, maybe garbled English, maybe Enochian. Cas was obviously really into this, just as turned on as he'd been when Dean had brought him to orgasm earlier.

 _You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,_ he thought with amusement, channeling BTO. He parted his lips, drawing the head of Cas’ cock very carefully into his mouth.

It wasn’t as easy as some of the ladies he'd known had made it look. In fact it felt a little weird and uncomfortable. But that didn’t matter, because Cas was crying out, his fingers clutching Dean’s wet hair so tightly it hurt, and his thighs were visibly shaking. Dean might not be an expert by any means, but he definitely seemed to be doing something right.

He reached up, placing his hands on Cas’ hips, and drew Cas in a little more, consciously relaxing his jaw, and Cas sobbed and moaned and babbled incomprehensible streams of words. Dean discovered his own cock was hard as hell. If there had been a wall they could use for support, he would have stood up, shoved Cas right up against the wall, and fucked him hard. But that wasn’t really feasible unless they got out of the shower, and anyway, he wasn't sure his angel was quite ready for that. 

Cas seemed pretty happy with what Dean was doing right now, responding with the honest, open enthusiasm he’d displayed when Dean jerked him off. His hips moved, fucking Dean’s mouth eagerly. Despite his lack of knowledge about human sexual practices, he did seem to be trying to hold back, so as not to choke Dean. He was already close to the edge, though. Dean could feel his cock twitching, could taste the precome spilling out. It ought to be kinda gross, but…

Oh, _fuck._ He was sucking Cas off, and it was the hottest goddamn thing ever. 

He let his fingers dig into Cas’ hips, holding him, guiding him, slowing him down so it wouldn’t be over so fast. Steam rose around them, and Cas shuddered beneath his hands, his head falling back, his muscles taut with near-ecstasy. But he obediently slowed the movement of his hips to match the slow glide of Dean’s mouth. Dean let his mouth slide up and down the shaft of Cas’ cock, in an easy, steady rhythm, letting Cas almost slip out every time and flicking his tongue teasingly over the tip before he let Cas sink back in. 

Cas was babbling again, _oh Dean oh I’m going to oh Dean I can’t stop please can’t you just…_ interspersed with what were probably Enochian curse words. Dean held him to the achingly slow and deliberate pace, his hands tight on Cas’ hips, until Cas’ voice rose an octave, and his cock began to jerk and spasm.

And then he let go of Cas with a pop and sat back on his haunches, looking up.

Cas looked wrecked. His body was tense, his eyes were screwed shut, and his chest rose and fell hard with every rapid breath. Dean waited, and when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to finish, Cas’ eyelashes flickered. He opened his eyes—the pupils blown so wide that Dean could hardly see the blue rims—and glared down, looking like the warrior of Heaven he’d once been. His words were clipped and irritated.

“What precisely are you doing?”

Dean grinned up at him. “Nothin’.”

The warrior-of-Heaven expression intensified. “I beg your pardon?”

"I'm not gonna let you come this way," Dean said softly. "Not this time, Cas. This time, I want to be right there with you."

Cas looked down at him, swallowing hard. The cold warrior look slipped away, to be replaced by adorable uncertainty. "You mean..."

"Yeah, Cas." Dean rose to his feet and lowered his head, whispering in the former angel's ear.

"I'm gonna show you another one of the great pleasures of earthly existence, Cas."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, this took a while to get right. Final chapters are hard! Thanks to everyone who's read this little series so far. Hope you enjoy the ending!

Dean had never dried someone off as foreplay before.

Once they’d stepped out of the shower and turned off the water, he’d grabbed one of the enormous fluffy towels (which Sammy, the big girl, had acquired from Bed Bath and Beyond or some similar girly store) and begun using it to dry Castiel off. Cas was in such a ridiculously overstimulated state at this point that he acted like the towel rubbing against his skin was the best thing he’d ever felt. Dean stood behind him and dried off his back and shoulders, slowly and thoroughly, and Cas moaned like he was getting a blowjob again.

Fuck. He wasn’t going to last long if Cas kept making noises like that.

The two of them stood in front of the full-length mirror someone had hung over the door. It was steamed up pretty thoroughly, but Dean could nevertheless see a blurry reflection of the two of them in it, both fully aroused, hair plastered to their heads, muscles rolling beneath glistening wet skin. They looked good together, he thought, sexy and hot, like something out of a gay porno. 

They looked like they belonged together.

He wrapped the towel around Cas, drying his chest, and Cas’ head arched back. His hair was dripping everywhere, so Dean ran the towel over his dark head, too. Then he went to his knees, still behind Cas, and ran the towel down his legs. He nuzzled at the firm flesh of his ass, and Cas groaned again. So did Dean. Jesus, Cas had the most amazing ass he’d ever seen on anyone, male or female.

He ran his tongue along the curves of Cas’ rear, exploring with long, slow, thorough strokes of his tongue. Cas’ legs trembled beneath him, and he made noises that were seriously X-rated. Dean parted the cheeks of his ass and delved between them, and Cas whimpered, shaking violently. Then, as if his legs couldn’t support him any longer, he slowly sank to his hands and knees.

God, he was beautiful when he was so totally wrecked. Dean remembered the way he’d come earlier, begging, gasping, like every sensation was new to him and he wanted to grab onto it all with both hands. And of course it _was_ all new to him, which was part of what made it so exciting. Dean had never been all that into virgins, but Cas wasn’t just a virgin about sex—he was a virgin about _everything._ Dean wanted to introduce him to all the delights of humanity… hot greasy cheeseburgers and long lazy Sunday mornings spent watching _Dr. Sexy_ marathons and _Houses of the Holy_ played at ear-shattering volume and smooth, smoky whiskey.

And sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Dean parted the cheeks of Cas' ass, opening Cas to his tongue, and stroked his most intimate flesh until the former angel trembled. Then he slowly slipped his tongue inside, just a bit. He’d never done this before, but he figured he must be doing something right, because Cas made a pathetic squeaking noise. Dean caressed him like that for long moments, listening to the pitiful noises Cas made, then pulled away and studied the two of them in the mirror. He thought he himself looked kinda ridiculous, his hair plastered against his head, his skin still wet because he hadn’t bothered to dry himself off. But Cas—Cas looked incredibly sexy, flushed and wide-eyed and _shocked,_ like he’d never imagined the things Dean was doing to him, or at least had never imagined how good it might feel. 

He stretched out a long arm and fumbled for the lube, which was still in the pocket of his discarded jeans. Finding it, he poured some into his hand, keeping his gaze on Cas’ in the mirror, and slowly, deliberately slicked his cock with it. Cas watched his every movement in the mirror, his eyes huge and dark.

“I can use a condom if you want,” Dean said softly. “We have 'em in the cabinet. I’m clean, though. Haven’t had sex for quite a while, and I’ve been checked recently and I’m all good. I figure you are too…”

“This vessel—“ Cas began, then checked himself. “ _My body,_ ” he said instead, “is free of disease.”

Dean frowned at him in the mirror. He hadn’t really thought much lately about Cas’ body not really being his—he was so accustomed to thinking of Cas as dark-haired and blue-eyed that he tended to forget those eyes had once belonged to someone else-- but the word _vessel_ brought it back to him. “Is Jimmy still in there somewhere?”

“No. He went on to Heaven the last time this body was destroyed.”

“Okay. That’s good, because Jimmy was married, and kinda religious, and I’m not sure he’d want to get it on with me. But as long as it’s just you in there...”

He poured more lube onto his fingers, and began carefully preparing Cas’ body. Cas was pretty loose and relaxed, and it didn’t take long before Dean had two fingers in him, exploring gently, with Cas moaning and whimpering and begging for more. Dean added a third finger, stretching him, and Cas arched his head back. Dean watched him in the mirror, watched his face contort and his lips draw back, exposing his teeth.

“Dean,” he gritted out. “Please.”

“What do you want, Cas?” Dean stroked him carefully, trying to find the spots that made him crazy. “Tell me.”

“I want—I want—“ Cas sounded breathless, almost frantic. “ _Please._ ”

“Tell me what you want,” Dean said, very softly, “and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want—Dean, I _want_ —please, just—"

“You want me inside you?”

“Yes.” Cas moaned, and his body clamped down on Dean’s fingers in eager response. “Please, Dean, please, please…”

“Then _tell_ me, Cas.”

“I want—“ Cas’ voice was breathless, pitched higher than normal. “Want you. Inside. Want to… to… f-f-fuh…”

He trailed off, and in the mirror Dean could see that his face had flushed redder than before. Something inside Dean twisted at his angel’s fumbling attempts to talk dirty. He’d talked bluntly to Cas earlier, spilled a litany of coarse words and crude images in his ear as he jerked him off, and he was sure Cas knew every crass word known to mankind anyway. But hearing him stumble as he tried to say them was something else again. 

Jesus. He was corrupting an angel. And oh, God, it was _hot._

“Go on,” he said softly, stroking deeper.

“Dean— _damn_ you, Dean—oh—please—"

Cas sounded like he was trying to work up a righteous angelic rage, but not succeeding particularly well. Which, since he was no longer an angel, was hardly surprising. Dean grinned at his sputtering annoyance. “Tell me what you want, Cas. You’re not getting any until you say it.”

“ _Fuck me,_ ” Cas burst out, and then his eyes went wider than before, and his cheeks redder, as if he’d surprised even himself. He swallowed hard, then went on a little more quietly. “Fuck me, Dean… please…”

Dean laughed softly, and withdrew his fingers. “Good boy,” he said, giving Cas a pat on the shoulder.

And suddenly he found himself flat on his back.

The tile floor was slick with moisture, so it had been easy enough for Cas to knock his knees out from under him. Apparently he’d gone a bit too far with the condescending little pat on the shoulder, because Cas looked _pissed._ He was wearing his Avenging Angel face, and he pinned Dean’s hands over his head with one hand before Dean knew what was happening, and grabbed for Dean’s ribs with the other.

And tickled the hell out of him.

Dean heard himself giggling, then making a high-pitched sound he could only describe as squealing. Oh, God, he sounded like a twelve-year-old girl. He’d rather Cas smite him. He tried desperately to gasp out _uncle,_ to plead for mercy, but his voice wasn’t cooperating. Cas found all his ticklish spots, his hand moving relentlessly from ribs to armpits to his exposed and unprotected belly, and Dean writhed beneath him, making horribly embarrassing squeaking noises, far too overcome to wrench free or turn the tables, unable to mount any sort of defense at all.

Served him right, he thought blurrily. He ought to know that Castiel, Angel of the Lord, wasn’t to be trifled with even as a human.

At last Cas seemed to think that maybe he’d had enough. He let up on the tickling, and Dean lay there, gasping and giggling and twitching convulsively. He felt Cas bend and begin to kiss his sprawled and inert form, his lips brushing over Dean’s throat, his collarbone, his teeth biting gently into Dean’s nipple. Dean was still helpless to object—not that he wanted to. He lay there on the tiles, letting Cas kiss him all over.

Eventually Cas let go of his wrists so that he could go lower, and he felt Cas’s mouth trailing down his stomach, down along the trail of brown hair that led from his navel downward. Cas’ tongue trailed around his erection, _soclosesoclosesoclose_ but not quite close enough, and Dean moaned, his hips rising of their own accord, begging wordlessly. All at once he remembered what they’d said to each other in Cas’ bedroom.

_Blow me, Cas._

_I fully intend to._

But Cas couldn’t—not now-- he was too turned on, he’d never be able to hold back—he wanted to be inside Cas, to fuck him, not to—

But then Cas’ tongue slipped over the head of his cock, and Dean’s thoughts turned to mist and blew away. He had an instant to hope that the lube didn't taste disgusting, and then Cas’ lips closed around him, and he forgot everything except the slick velvet heat of Cas’ mouth. He heard himself moaning, heard broken words rise from him of their own accord— _oh fuck Cas, Jesus that feels good, don’t stop don’t stop oh fuck **yeah**_ —and Cas drew him in deeper, until he sobbed with the pleasure of it.

Cas pulled off him, licked his way down the swollen shaft, ran his tongue over Dean’s taut balls, and Dean groaned and swore and writhed, just as helpless to move as he’d been when Cas was tickling him. Cas teased him for a long moment, exploring with his tongue, and Dean quivered.

“Cas,” he ground out. “Come on—can’t wait any longer—"

Cas ignored him, swiping his warm tongue over the head of Dean’s cock in leisurely circles, and Dean lost it. He grabbed for Cas and rolled him over onto his back, intending to get on top and get things moving in the right direction. But the floor was still slippery, and the two of them went skidding across the floor, scrabbling wildly, until they slammed right into the door with a thud. Jesus. If Sam and Kevin hadn’t heard them by now, it was a fucking miracle.

Dean lunged for Cas, and Cas eluded him, grabbing at his wrists, and the two of them wrestled the way they’d done earlier in the hall, kissing frantically and laughing in breathless bursts as they each fought to get the better of the other. But this time they were naked, and when their bare cocks brushed together, their wrestling came to an abrupt halt. Lying flat on his back, Cas stared up into Dean’s eyes, looking startled, and then he moved his body, stroking deliberately against Dean’s hot, hard flesh. Dean groaned.

“ _Fuck._ ”

Their bodies moved together, driving both of them higher. Dean reached out, groping blindly for the lube. He was already slick with saliva and precome and lube, but he figured he better make sure he was wet enough, because he wanted this to be perfect for Cas. Assuming he could hold off long enough to get inside the other man.

He pulled away—not without effort—and slicked himself up again. Jesus, his cock was dripping precome already, hard as granite, and flushed so deep a pink it was almost purple. Cas deserved more than a quickie, but there was no fucking way he was going to last longer than a minute. Things had just gotten out of his control somehow.

But that figured, he supposed. He’d never been able to control the way he felt about Cas, so why should this be any different?

He urged Cas back up and turned him over, so that he was on his hands and knees again. He wasn’t sure this was he best position, because he really wanted to kiss Cas while they made love, but he thought it might be the best one for now, so he could see what the hell he was doing. He was a little uncomfortable realizing he didn’t really know any more about this than Cas did, from a personal, firsthand standpoint. In a way, they were both virgins.

He leaned forward, taking his cock in his hand and guiding it up against Cas. The ex-angel felt hot and soft against him, and Dean thought he was ready. He hoped so. He gulped, then pushed against the firm ring of muscle, and Cas’ flesh yielded, letting him in.

Cas made a sobbing, whimpering sound, and Dean froze. “Okay there, dude?”

“Yes. _Yes._ Dean...”

At the sound of the familiar, gravelly voice moaning his name, Dean lost it. He’d meant to hold his position there till Cas got used to his intrusion, but God help him, he just couldn’t. He shoved in a little further, shuddering, and Cas’ body yielded still further. Dean tried desperately to control himself, but before long he was fully sheathed in Cas, breathing heavily and trembling as he forced himself to stillness.

“Dean.” Cas shoved back against him, totally destroying what little self-control he had left. “ _Please._ ”

Dean pulled out and thrust in again, very gently, and Cas gave a long, low moan of unmistakable satisfaction and pleasure. Dean found himself thrusting, slowly but powerfully, and tension built rapidly in his balls as heat coursed through his veins. His legs trembled, barely able to hold him upright.

He opened his mouth, expecting the usual litany of cuss words to spill out, but what fell out instead shocked him.

_Castiel, oh God, Cas, I’ve been waiting for this so long, want you, Cas, want you so freakin’ much…_

His eyes were burning and his throat was tight, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep back tears. But he couldn’t stop himself from babbling in a hoarse, choked voice, telling Cas how much he needed him, how long he’d thought about doing this with him, how many times he’d come by himself while thinking about Cas’ eyes and his smile and his body…

He was slamming into Cas hard now, totally out of control, and Cas didn’t seem to mind. He groaned with every hard thrust. Dean opened his eyes long enough to glance in the clearing mirror, and saw himself leaning over Cas, making love to him doggy style, a look of pure ecstasy on Cas’ face, an expression of stunned surprise and sheer shock on his own.

He’d always enjoyed sex, loved the long, slow buildup of tension and the sudden pleasurable release, and the almost drugged moments after orgasm, when nothing seemed to matter. But this was so much more than sex. This was—this was—

Cas cried out sharply beneath him, and Dean watched in the mirror as his cock jerked and spasmed, spurting white all over the tile floor. The sight was too much for him, and his own orgasm hit him hard. He sobbed Cas’ name as he came deep inside his angel, pleasure rolling over him in long, sweet waves, drowning him in an emotion that was so much more than mere ecstasy.

" _Castiel,_ " he gasped, and the two of them collapsed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, wrapping around each other and holding each other tight.

A damp, cooling tile floor might not be the most comfortable place to enjoy the peaceful warmth of afterglow, but it took a long, long time before Dean could bring himself to care where he was.

He was in Cas' arms, and that was enough.

*****

Sam snarled to himself as he got out of bed the next morning. He'd buried himself under a small mountain of quilts and comforters last night, but it hadn't done a damn bit of good. How the hell was a guy supposed to sleep when his brother and their best friend were out there in the hall, banging into walls and doors and floors and-- well, _banging?_ If he heard one more cry of pleasure, one more whimpered _Dean yes Dean_ or bellowed _oh God Cas,_ he was fucking well going to move out.

The idea of going back to living in shabby motel rooms, he thought grimly, suddenly had a lot of appeal.

He opened the door to his bedroom, and discovered, to his immense annoyance, a trail of clothing down the hall. Great. Perfect. Like it wasn't bad enough that the two of them had been thudding into fucking walls, giggling like teenaged girls, and yelling at the top of their lungs while they screwed, they had to leave a trail of clothes behind. Underwear and all.

_Ugh._

Sam gingerly stepped over the scattered clothing, and stormed down the hallway. Outside of Dean's room, he paused, scowling. Dean had apparently forgotten to close his door last night, and Cas and Dean were curled up together, passed out cold, in Dean's bed-- covered entirely by a quilt, thank God, but unmistakably intimate. They were so close they were sharing a pillow, and they looked like a pair of kittens cuddled in a basket, cozy and happy and, well, _snuggly._ Sam felt some of his irritation melt away as he looked at them.

It was good, he thought, to have Cas here in the bunker, safe and well-fed and warm. Good to know that he'd be staying with them, becoming part of their little family. And it was even better to see Dean looking so relaxed and happy, with his arms finally wrapped tightly around his angel.

As Sam watched, Dean's mouth twitched, and Sam saw that even in his sleep, he was smiling. Given that his brother's sleep had been ravaged by nightmares for years now, that was a nice thing to see. Softly, Sam pulled the door shut, and then went on down the stairs, his annoyance fading and his spirits rising despite his interrupted night of sleep. He even found that he was smiling a little.

Yeah, he thought. Dean definitely wouldn't be bringing a woman home ever again.

He was pretty sure Dean had everything he wanted.


End file.
